A three is all that's good and right,
Why must my three keep out of sight
beneath a vicious square root sign?
I wish instead I were a nine,
For nine could thwart this evil trick,
With just some quick arithmetic,
I know i'll never see the sun,
As 1.7321
Such is my reality,
A sad irrationality,
When, hark, just what is this i see?
Another square root of a three
has quietly come waltzing by
Together now we multiply
to form a number we prefer
Rejoicing as an integer,
We break free from our mortal bonds,
And with a wave of magic wands,
Our square-root signs become unglued,
and love for me has been renewed....
(from Harold & Kumar : Escaped from Guantanamo Bay *yang ni aku amek mase Kumar nk pujuk x-awek dia kat church)
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